20
rience of the difficulty of rising from a sitting posture with my hands tied behind was enough. My hands and arms and wrists were growing more and more painful; they were in an unnatural position. If I could only loosen my wrists a little I might be eased. With this idea I gave my wrists a little tug, and found that they were looser than I had supposed; they had been tight enough when that fat man tied them the cord had cut into my skin and galled me terribly; but I take it that unconsciously I had been continuously fidgeting, with the result that my bonds had gradually slackened.
I was startled to find how slack they actually were. By opening my left hand so as to make it as thin as possible I managed, after one or two tugs and twists, to withdraw it from the slackened noose and both hands were free. The relief it was I
The first use I made of my freedom was to relieve myself of the horrid rag which they had stuffed into my mouth. What a comfort it was to be able to open one's mouth wide, and to breathe as one chose. I was all at once a much better man than I had been. In my sudden exhilaration I jumped to the conclusion that now I could use my hands I could be through that door in less than no time. But I was wrong. I picked up all sorts of things from the floor bricks, bottles, and all sorts of odds and ends and brought them to bear against the door which shut me in.
It resisted them all. So far as I could judge I made no impression on it of any kind. It was a pretty solid piece of work I had learnt that already. Nothing I could get hold of availed to force it open.
The disappointment was acute; I had been so sure. When I recognised that I was beaten I just sank down on the ground and stopped there. I was no longer afraid of being unable to raise myself, but I was worn and weary, hungry and thirsty, uncomfortable in my ill-fitting attire, conscious of grime and dirt I would have given a good deal for a wash sick at heart. I had never pretended to be a hero; I felt singularly unheroi
